Shards of Silence
by dear.dark.destiny
Summary: Seven years after the battle of Hogwarts and Hermione is struggling to fight a new enemy...or several. Draco reluctantly at her side, she will stop at nothing to try to understand why her life has taken such a violent turn. Remember, the light is no longer your friend. Hermione/Draco Drama, Suspense, Romance. Rated T for violence, and some mature content
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note:** **Hello friends! It has been quite some time since I have written and/or posted anything, but I am proud to announce my new story, Shards of Silence. This is going to be a chaptered fic. My hope is to get out a chapter every other week, but college demands me a bit more sometimes, so we shall see.**

 **Thank you for reading, and as always,**

 **enjoy...**

It's December. The makeshift igloo they built months ago was far warmer than what lay outside of it, and it was holding up far better than they could have ever expected. Hermione breathed warm breath on her mitted hands and proceeded to ball her fist and strike down on the sheets of ice she had before her. The reluctant layers shattered and left Hermione with shards of various colorful, triangle-shaped crystals. She scooped a handful and wrapped them in her handkerchief. Taking a deep breath and a preemptive shutter, she braced herself to go back out into the cold.

"It's about time you came back out! If I have to endure the frost, then my darling so do you." Draco teased from his place in the snow.

Hermione rolled her eyes, signing to him to shut up. Getting down on her knees in the snow, she opened the handkerchief and began arranging them on the leveled ground.

Before she was able to place another shard, Draco wrapped his arms around her and kissed her cheek. He certainly was feeling spunky today. Hermione felt a twinge of remorse for not feeling the way he did because she knew that it would be a while before he felt this way again.

"I love you." He whispered into her ear, his warm breath tickling her and allowing her to melt into his tight grasp.

Because her hands were too busy to sign and she could not say it back, she turned to look him in the eyes, pressing the words into his with her eyes, and then advancing to press her lips to his.

Four….five seconds and Hermione retracted her lips and he released me from his warmth.

"Okay. I'll let you get back." He said with a wistful and almost sad smile. Hermione knew the reason. She knew that every time she could not say the words back, he felt that there was something missing. And even if the unspoken words were true, she knew that even though he knew that, the fact that she could never say them back meant that she could not love him as much as he loved her.

His pride and his love for Hermione would not allow him to tell her of this hurt. But in the same way, she could not tell him how much he hurt her in return.

Hermione shrugged it off, but it would be back when his form was holding hers.

Turning away, the bushy-haired girl resumed her project of broken slivers. She was unsure as to what she was making, but she was also beginning to really like it. It took her mind off of the pressing circumstances and trapped it in the world of mind-numbing nothingness of crystal blues, sparkling pinks, and twinkling greens, spreading out before her.

Draco began to hum something behind her, and in that moment she was happier that she could hear him than she was saddened that she could not tell him how she felt about it.

Hermione could not pinpoint exactly what he was humming, but it was somber, yet very hopeful. It reminded her of the many years they had spent together on the run. It reminded her of the first echo of freedom and the last echo of it. It reminded her of when she felt so heavily for him that she could hardly breathe and it reminded her of the joy they felt together and also of the day that completely shattered her heart.

Now, Hermione's inspiration was suddenly drawn from these emotions and the colors seemed to change. Transparent red and almost obsidian black appeared in the mix and transformed the piece. She felt the joy and the heartache mixed with the frustration of never really having a place to call home.

 _He's my home._ She thought, assuring myself. _He is my only home._

She felt the colors getting darker and darker as she sustained her steady pace until she felt a warm, gloved hand on her shoulder pull her out of her trance.

"It's getting late 'Mione," he spoke gently, then smirked: "and as much as I would love to continue watching my artist work, I can hardly see you anymore…and it's getting colder. Come inside."

Nodding her head, Hermione smiled and put her pointer finger up, indicating that she would just be another minute.

Draco went inside the igloo and Hermione turned back to her creation. She was unsure as to what she had made exactly, but it looked almost like a throne room. The inner most places were made up of the light colors of ice and they wound their way around like clockwork, creating a dazzling design of transparent pastels, but what was truly daunting was how the colors grew deeper and darker as the piece expanded. The delicate colors turned to violent colors and the violent colors turned to sad colors and the sad and violent colors mixed and became an emotion all of their own. This was certainly her best piece by far.

As vain as it may sound, Hermione longed to continue the study of what she had just created. She longed to stare at it for hours so that she could understand everything. Every centimeter of it…

But the cold became too much. She had barely noticed it before because she was so focused on the task at hand, but now that her head was not completely fixated on the piece, the cold became too much for her small frame to bare.

The shivering witch stood up and took one last longing glance at her creation, then with a stretch, she dusted herself off and ambled back to their little _house_.

The warmth hit as soon as she was inside. The fireplace was lit up with nearly-roaring flames and Draco was in the kitchen.

She gazed longingly at the fire that danced away, burning hot and licking the sides of the fireplace, its dangerously graceful arms beckoning me forward. Heeding its call, she moved her numb legs toward the flaming tendrils. Had it not been for the incantations Hermione and Draco had placed in this igloo to make it larger and far more resilient, she would be worried that the fire would swallow up their little residency, but their placement had remained unhindered by the warmth that so entranced Hermione now.

Minutes passed by in what felt like hours, and somewhere along the line, the shivering stopped, she regained feeling in her appendages, and her peculiar longing to climb into the fiery box only increased. When the sweat beads began to form on her forehead, she found that it was time to take a step back.

Draco, still in the kitchen, was whistling the same somber melody that he had been humming hours before. Hermione craved to know what was going on in his head.

 _We used to talk. We used to know each other._ Hermione thought.

Now, she could only see see hurt in eyes when she could not speak back, and because she could not return a piece of witty banter or engage in an intellectual conversation, he had retreated, and he continues to retreat.

A surge of emotion for him came upon Hermione, so she ran up behind him and threw her arms around his waist, hugging him from behind.

He let out a surprised chuckle and twisted around in her grasp. Turning her gaze to meet his, she mouthed "I love you."

His eyes softened and he leaned down to press a gentle, heartfelt kiss on her yearning lips. She closed her eyes and melted into his grasp.

Taking a pause, Hermione looked deeply into him and then pressed her lips to his, expressing her passion and longing. He eagerly obliged.

Their pace began slow and steady, taking in each other's air between each searching kiss, until he began to kiss her jaw line and down her neck—soft pecks, leaving goosebumps in their wake—and Hermione began to feel like the fire. She was shivering again, but not because she was cold.

Draco took her hands and lifted them over her head, pressing her and them up against a beam in the igloo.

The kissing on her neck and cheeks continued and her head began to grow fuzzy, like she was spinning around and around.

The warmth of her back against the beam made the ice fixture melt which caused the back of her shirt to become soaked.

Still holding Hermione's wrists up in one hand, Draco skillfully peeled off her shirt between fiery kisses.

Still kissing, they made their way to the pillow-covered, raised platform they used as a bed.

"I love you," Draco whispered, "and I know you love me too." With that, their words were drowned out by passion and eventually that passion was drowned out by the darkness.

 **A/N:** **I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! There is more to come!**

 **Please let me know any thoughts you have on it. I would love to read them in your review.**

 **Make sure to follow the story so you can get updates on when the next chapters are uploaded.**

 **Much love,**

 **Caroline (aka Dear. Dark. Destiny)**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN:** **Hello again! So as promised, here is chapter two! Please enjoy!**

 _Ch2_

 _I'm running. I'm running as quickly as my feet will take me. My chest pounds and my legs ache. Adrenaline is coursing through my veins but I am not fast enough. I see them encroaching closer and closer and closer and closer until…_

Hermione's breathing caught and she shot up out of the bed, sweat drenching her back.

Then the hyperventilated wheezing started. Though she tried to will herself to stop because she did not wish to wake him up, it was already too late.

"You alright, 'Mione?" Ron asked in a groggy yet concerned way. Sitting up, he rubbed her back to console her.

"I-I just—I just had the—dream again." She choked out the words.

This was not the first time that Hermione had woken up in cold sweats, unable to stop herself from the attacks of anxiety, feeling that she might could vomit at any moment. It was not the first time that Ron had had to console her and rub her back and hold her.

It had been two years since the war, but it felt like the running had only just begun and she was powerless to stop it.

"It's okay, now. It's okay now, 'Mione. Hush now." He chanted, holding her tightly and kissing her clammy forehead. "It's over. It's over."

Hermione knew that what he was saying held truth, and it allowed her heart to settle, but she still could not shake the nightmare that had reoccurred night after night. Surely it meant something that no matter what the setting of the dream, she was always running from the same thing but she could never actually see from what she was running. But they had been through much together. Surely, that was why.

"I know. I'm sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry. I love you. Don't be sorry." Ron assured, holding her tightly and rocking them back and forth.

"I know," She whispered and gave Ron an encouraging smile, her voice hoarse. She wanted to add "but I am" but could not find it in herself to worry Ron any further.

Ron, furrowing his brow and pursing his lips, loosened his grip, but still rocked them back and forth and back and forth.

"Can I get you some tea?" he offered, halfway getting up.

His lover shook her head "no" but gave him another half-smile to show her appreciation.

Hermione's eyes darted to the left wall where she saw the clock read 4 o'clock. This was not the first time she had woken up in the middle of the night, and unfortunately, she knew it would not be the last.

Using her eyes, she urged him to come back to the bed.

"Okay. Try to sleep, 'Mione." He comforted.

Ron laid his head on the pillow, and after a few nervous glances in Hermione's direction— _probably wondering whether or not he should hold me_ , supposed Hermione _—_ she heard his soft snores again.

After fifteen minutes of lying there next to him with her eyes wide open, she knew that sleep would not return to her, so as quietly as she could, she drew her robe and slipped on her moccasins and left the room.

Amazingly, though, she did not feel tired, even if she had probably only gotten four hours of sleep. Instead, she felt alert.

Hermione made herself a cup of tea and went out to the back to sit and look at the moon.

 _Ron would be certainly hurt if he knew that I made myself a cup of tea after refusing his cup…_ she considered, guiltily.

 _Certainly, though, I refused because I did not want him to have to get up. He had been sleeping so peacefully and surely he would not have gotten back to sleep so easily then._ she assured and shook it from her mind.

There were more pressing thoughts in her head and it would waste too much energy to focus on that without a Pensieve.

The summer air tonight was warm, but the cool breeze swooped in and allowed the warmth to be pleasant. It did not stick like the humidity of some summer evenings, but it swirled about and glided off gracefully.

The moon, tonight, was immense and brilliant, and it seemed to be the vastest snitch Hermione had ever seen. Not quite round, though because it was not set to be full until tomorrow, but orangey-gold and shining and _big_.

It was definitely the most prominent of the night's show, but the stars were not to be outshined.

However bright the moon was, the stars across from him were four times as brilliant. Hermione could see every constellation for miles and miles.

Hermione had always loved the stars and excelled in Astronomy, but she had never believed that they held any superfluous power other than just being stars. Professor Trelawney had always tried to convince her that her past, present, and future were written in the stars and that Hermione's innate self could be described through them, but she still believed that that was utter horseshit. There are some things that are destined to be, but it is up to people to fill in the cracks.

 _I cannot live by the stars, or I will never live at all._ She thought, determinedly. _But is this living?_

Hermione loved Ron, but the fire she felt for him after the battle had dwindled slightly. He cared so deeply for her, but she could not bring herself to feel as much as he did. The continual dread of their past and the nagging, terrible feeling of what was to come gripped her and would not let her go. She feared for his safety and she feared that, were they to have kids, their children would be in mortal peril just as they had been not two years ago.

When she was petrified nearly eight years ago, she remembered that in that moment, she felt nothing, but felt like something had gripped her tightly with a suffocating grasp. And when she awoke, it felt as though her lungs had been asleep and her first breath was that of a child's, freshly out of a mother's womb. Hermione still did not remember much while she was petrified other than a few people gingerly touching or holding her hand, but she remembered that feeling of rebirth, and she longed for it.

Hermione longed for the feeling of coming to the surface after years of being under water and she could not expect Ron to be able to pull her.

 _But I love him…_ She reminded herself.

And she kept reminding herself as the moon receded into the sky, slowly fading from existence and the sun peaked its tresses above the horizon.

Steadying herself, Hermione returned to the cool inside with her mug and washed it, erasing any trace that it had been used at all.

Ron would be up for work soon, and Hermione would have the house to herself for a while before she had to go to work.

Knowing that Ron would notice now if she were to climb back into bed with him, Hermione drew her wand from her robe pocket and with a flick, breakfast was being made…eggs, toast, sausage, baked beans all made without forcing a house elf to do it for them.

And sure enough, Ron came into the room not fifteen minutes later, rubbing his eyes and yawning.

"How long have you been up, 'Mione?" he asked through a yawn. "I didn't feel you get up."

"Not long." she smiled, holding a new cup of tea, and presenting the busy kitchen before him with her free arm.

Ron cocked an eyebrow up but seemed content with that answer. After loading up his plate, he sat down at the place across from Hermione, and just as he had been known to do, began stuffing his face.

Through mouthfuls of food, he explained to her the vivid dream he had had about a unicorn telling him he should be playing Quidditch or something and that he was wasting his time as an Auror now that they were moving out of the dark times.

"There's few, if any, dark wizards left now. I really think we are moving into a time of peace. I bloody think it's time I do something else!" Ron was getting excited, but Hermione could not help but feel as though he was not completely correct about the dark times being over, because when he said it, something lurched deep with her stomach.

"George is thinking about closing the shop. It's been two years since—" he paused and looked down, cleared his throat, "and he needs a partner. I think I should go for it."

Ron looked back up at her, searching for an opinion of dissent or accord.

"I think you should. It could be good for him. He really hasn't been the same since—" she stopped when Ron winced, not wanting to hear his late big brother's name said out loud. He hurt every time someone brought him up, and every time someone said his name, it was as if he had been punched in the gut. When Fred had just died, it took everything Ron had not to break down when anyone mentioned him, and even a year after it took every bone in his body not to cry at the mention.

Hermione understood the feeling.

"—but you could help him."

Ron nodded, determinedly and returned to his meal.

"Ron, you're going to be late if you don't hurry." Hermione teased him after a few minutes of silence, wanting to tug his mind off of his brother. "Even if you won't be in a week, you're still a ministry employee…"

"Oh!" He exclaimed, his eyes widening. "Right. Damn, thanks 'Mione." And with that, he slammed down his juice, took one more bite of toast and hurried out of the room.

In five minutes he was back out, dressed and ready to go.

"Bye. Love you!" He said hastily, kissing her on the lips before exclaiming " _Incindio"_ to the fireplace, and vanishing through the Floo network.

"Bye." She muttered after he had gone, exhaling deeply. It took so much strength and energy to be okay for him, even though Hermione knew he would be more than willing to try to help her with her pain.

However, she did not want his help. For years upon years, Hermione had helped Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter with everything that they needed and her books had always helped Hermione. She could ask them for anything and they would certainly do everything in their power to aid her in her quest, but she did not want it.

 _I understand now, why Harry always wanted to fight his battles on his own...because they could hurt those closest to you so much more._

Hermione's stomach did a turn at that thought, and she summoned a small glass tablet and tapped it three times with her wand.

On its face appeared two cheerful people who seemed to be having the time of their lives backpacking on some mountain. The woman was clearly aging, but still maintained an air of youthfulness. She had brown, bushy hair with streaks of grey all throughout and brown eyes that crinkled at the edges, lines that showed years of smiling. The man was rather average in height and had slightly larger teeth in the front and greyish hair that had started to recede in the back. He smiled at the woman as they hiked their way around wide trails and on long, sloping hills.

They were happily married and successful, but according to them, they had no children and they never would.

The only children they knew of were the kids that came in twice a year to get their teeth checked.

She had tried numerous times to return their memories, but each time was as fruitless as the last and the next. They were lost to her and her to them.

Hermione found that she could often get lost in watching them, like Muggle television. Hours and hours could be spent watching this cluelessly happy couple go on adventures, hold hands, cook dinner, and even clean teeth.

Perhaps she could not return their memories because they did not _want_ her to return them. Perhaps they preferred not having a daughter…a _witch_ daughter.

Hermione felt her heart sink and her anger rise. She shook her head as if trying to pull herself from trance and pushed the piece of glass across the table. It slid off and hit the floor and the picture was gone, her momentary lapse of judgement lifted.

"There's a reason I don't watch you all the time." She muttered to herself, appalled at her idiocy.

"You cannot dwell on the past and you certainly cannot dwell on what you cannot change, Hermione. Pull yourself together. You've been through worse."

And with that, she rose from her seat, picked up the glass and stowed it beneath some towels in a drawer—(knowing Ron would never open it if he could help it)—and dressed for work. House-elves would not free themselves, after all.

 **AN:** **I hope you enjoyed this chapter. If I wrote it correctly, none of you saw it coming from the first chapter...which is good! Please let me know what you thouht of it by reviewing. It really helps me as an author to get constructive criticism and even just thoughts from you dear readers.**

 **Happy Writings!**

 **Caroline**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** **Hello dear readers(though I know there are few ;)). As I have promised, here is chapter 3! A week after chapter 2. I'm on a roll!**

Hermione woke with a start, forgetting where she was and tried to cry out for help, but felt as though something had been violently shoved up her throat. Though she could breathe, nothing but air was coming out. She put her hands to her neck and tried to call out again. Everything or anything, but it was no use.

She could not speak.

And then she remembered.

She was with Draco, they were on the run, he was okay now, and she would never be able to use her voice again.

It had been seven years since the war and though the wizarding world had left that war behind seven years ago, the war still raged on in her, and though the wizarding world had left that war behind seven years ago, the war still raged on in her.

She turned over to see the beautiful, pale form of her lover next to her.

He had not stirred at her jolt.

 _Good. He doesn't need to be bothered by this._ She thought, sliding back down into the sweat-dampened sheets. Though a minute before, she had felt quite hot, she now felt quite cold and was almost shivering.

Hermione moved in to hold her husband next to her. He moaned a bit, but welcomed her into his arms.

Still, he did not wake.

He looked so innocent when he slept. Like a child who had yet to discover the world. His ease of mind helped ease her mind, and it was not ten minutes before she had closed her eyes and joined him in his slumber.

Hours later, the Hermione woke peacefully as the first sunlight in months crept in through the bedroom "window" and cast glittering rays of light, refracting off of the ice crystals.

Hermione nudged Draco softly. He groaned a bit, but stayed put. She nudged him a bit harder and finally on her third and roughest nudge, he woke as well.

"Whadisit?" he asked groggily, turning from his stomach onto his back and rubbing his eyes, but as soon as he turned around, he saw the glittering crystals of light dance around their bedroom.

"Oh…" he sounded confused, and then, "…Oh!" and to Hermione's surprise, a look of great horror swept over his face.

Hermione's face fell and she attempted to press into his eyes her question of why he was suddenly so terrified.

But Draco did not answer, instead he jolted out of bed and hurriedly put on his trousers from the night before and then his white wizard robes.

"Hermione we have to go. _Now!_ " he growled, shouting the last word.

And then she realized, feeling stupid that she had not seen it in the beginning.

 _The light was no longer our friend, and however beautiful the beams were, it was not here to bring us warmth._

They had lived peacefully here in their home for nearly two years, and there had not been any trace of danger. Of course they were always on guard, but two years of peace seemed to have given them a false sense of security, and now they would have to move on to the next place Draco deemed safe…and quickly.

The darkness of their snowy environment had always shadowed them and kept them safe, but their friend had receded.

"But why? We were so hidden for so long. I suppose I should have guessed it would happen. But why? How did they find us?" Draco muttered to himself as he stuffed all necessary items into an enchanted bag—a bag similar to that which Hermione had enchanted during the war with Harry and Ron.

 _My artwork._ Hermione thought, another epiphany. _I forgot to scatter it or at least shield it. They saw the bright colors._

Instantly, Hermione got up and ran to the outer rooms to gaze out at the unusually sunny terrain around the igloo.

There was an instantaneous _Crack!_ and the face of a man whom she had not seen in almost five years appeared outside the home.

Hermione recognized the face of a boy with whom she had spent most of her adolescence; many of her triumphs, failures, heartaches, and battles had been shared by this boy-turned-shattered man.

The glasses, the scar, the average height…. Harry Potter was standing on her dreaded 'art' and searching for her in her own front yard.

Harry scanned the scene and locked eyes with Hermione out of the porthole window, eyes widening, mouthing her to come outside.

Feeling as though she must obey for one of her oldest friends, she cautiously ran out to meet him.

Not knowing, quite what to expect, Hermione faced him. Harry stared into her eyes for just one solitary moment, then brought her into a deep embrace that lasted roughly a second.

"Hermione, you've got to go. They've tracked you down. Something about brilliant colors glinting off of the snow that tipped them off." Harry expressed as Hermione's momentary surprise immediately turned into deep dread, sure now that it was her artwork that had done them in.

"I'm supposed to be here to get you and _him_ but they will be here in about five minutes. You have to go. _NOW!_ " He shouted, then disapperated into the thin, cold air.

Hermione was only slumped over in defeat for a few seconds before she straightened up, procured her wand from her pocket and mouthed the incantations to melt the igloo. It happened quickly, but long enough for Draco to get out of their liquefying home with a small bag clutched tightly in one hand and his Hawthorn wand in the other.

No sooner than three minutes had passed before every trace of the two living there had become water that was slowly becoming ice before their eyes.

With dead eyes, Hermione looked at Draco, slogged her way to him, and clung to his robe sleeves as he disapperated them both, not saying a word.

A minute later, Harry and seven other Ministry officials and Aurors arrived at the iced over terrain. They attempted to seek out the two in question, but found that no one was there. Only a few fragments of colorful, glittering pieces of ice remained.

 **A/N:** **I hope you enjoyed this chapter...perhaps you are now able to come up with some new theories or thoughts of how the events will turn out? Maybe?**

 **Well please review because it really helps me understand what I'm doing right and it definitely doesn't hurt in regards to getting the story more reads...**

 **Thank you very much for reading!**

 **Happy writings,**

 **Caroline**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** **Hello everyone! I am so sorry that it has been so long. Midterms and such, you know so I had to put the story on the back burner for a while! But here is chapter 4. Please review. I'd love to hear what you think.**

 **Enjoy!**

Hermione arrived at the Ministry precisely fifteen minutes before she was supposed to, as she always had, feeling completely ready to continue her research on creatures' rights. Work always seemed to be the easiest way for Hermione to forget every bad thought or feeling that she had and just focus on whatever task she deemed important that day.

She walked briskly, waving _hello_ and smiling professionally at her colleagues and acquaintances, but keeping her eyes focused on the twenty or so lifts up ahead, and eventually climbed onto the third from the left.

Now, on normal days, Hermione would have chosen the seventh from the left, but this lift seemed to be the only one available to her at the moment. And this lift, on previous days, would have bared an _OUT OF ORDER_ sign on the front, but today Gromweld—the man in charge of these kinds of things—had called in sick, thus the sign was not put up for the day.

However, this lift was not in any way out of order except for the fact that the witch who normally stated the floor did not speak today.

Hermione, though she found this odd, did not think much of it. But when the lift passed her floor and continued down, she began to wonder.

Having always been a curious bird, when the lift stopped five floors below her required floor and opened onto a deserted corridor, she wandered out, clutching her briefcase tightly with one hand and hovering her dominant hand over the wand in her pocket.

The corridor was like none Hermione had seen before, though she believed she had been almost everywhere in the Ministry.

The walls were patterned with rough stone and smooth tile, each rough stone surrounded by four either black or white tiles. The ceilings, though only a few meters taller than her, seemed vast and endless. The floors were completely black, or rather devoid of all color.

In the distance she heard the murmuring of two voices. One sounded angry and the other anxious.

Hermione contemplated whether or not she should return to the lift and go find another, though her hesitation lasted only momentarily as curiosity got the best of her.

Knowing that her heels would signal her arrival, she charmed them into silence and continued on down the corridor, the voices getting louder as she approached.

"…how much longer—?" the anxious whisper faded in and was cut off by the angry voice spitting: "As long as it takes! You are under my control!"

Hermione could now tell that the two speaking were men, and the anxious man sounded slightly familiar and thoroughly exhausted. The man who had at first sounded angry, now sounded more annoyed than anything, but she still could not tell.

"And will you really let me go after this? Live a normal life?" the tired man responded, sounding thoroughly defeated.

"If you do well…yes. But you've got to do well. If I am not Minister within the year, then there will be no pardon for you… _filthy criminal._ " The anger/annoyance in his voice subsided and then turned to disgust at the end.

The other man muttered something under his breath that Hermione could not hear. Apparently the bully could not hear either, because he shot back with an incensed " _WHAT DID YOU SAY?!"_ that was no longer a whisper.

"Nothing." He replied, overpowered by the other man.

 _What did the man want? To be Minister? Why does the other one seem like he has no choice? Like his hands are tied?_ Hermione thought, suddenly wishing she had an invisibility cloak like Harry's, for she had clearly stumbled upon something she should not have heard. She tried to decide whether she should try to hide with a _disillusionment_ charm or just creep her way back.

In a split decision, she decided to head back to the lift and leave, having not heard anyone speak for quite a few seconds.

"Hey!" bellowed the first man. She had been caught.

Knowing that she could not run away without seeming suspicious, she turned around with what she hoped was a relaxed smile and found that she was facing Maximus Mendaxio, a man in a very high position in the Ministry, followed by Draco Malfoy—Harry, Ron, and Hermione's sworn enemy during their Hogwarts days.

His face dawned in recognition that turned immediately to a mixture of shock, fear and realization. His eyes flashed to Mendaxio.

"Hi, sorry. I was just in the loo. One upstairs is broken." Hermione gave a forced chuckle.

"Loo? There isn't one on this floor…" he replied.

Hermione paused.

"Er—yes, well that's why I have to go find another one. Maybe the floor below this!" Hermione gave a sheepish smile, but her fear was not quite masked behind it. "Yes, well I ought to be off!"

"What did you hear?" Mendaxio growled, but there was a flash of fear shining in his eyes now.

"N-nothing! Like I said, I was just…just looking for a loo…" Hermione insisted.

Mendaxio remained silent after she spoke, his eyes narrowed, and then in an instant his entire mood changed. He straightened up and put on a very large and warm smile.

"Alright then, back to work with you. No trouble here!" Mendaxio piped cheerfully.

The change was alarming for both Hermione and Draco, and Hermione watched as Draco frowned, clearly confused and taken aback.

 _He'd probably love to see me get fired or kicked out…_ Hermione thought to herself as she turned and walked back to the lift. It brought her back all the way to the lobby where she boarded another elevator—this one had the voice—and proceeded to her floor.

Hermione worked for hours on her research for her presentation on non-human creature's rights, still confused and slightly worried about what she had seen.

Had he really believed her? What was Draco doing with him? Should she tell anybody what she had seen…?

 _Ron. I'll tell Ron._ Hermione decided. Perhaps he could help put in an inquiry against Mendaxio. _If he hasn't already quit…_

Finally, five o'clock came around and it was time for her to head home.

Hermione packed up her items and retreated to the atrium where the grated fireplaces stood, the events that had just taken place still heavy on her mind.

Waving at a few colleagues who were also heading home to their families, she disappeared in green flames.

"Ron? Ron I'm home. Are you here?" Hermione called out to the apparently empty house, as she heard no answer.

Sighing, she resolved to wait for him, but an hour passed and still he did not come.

Deciding it would be best to go ahead and change into more comfortable clothes, she headed back to their bedroom with an increasing sense of uneasiness in the pit of her stomach.

Her bedroom looked very much like it did the day that she and Ron had purchased the home—a large four-post bed made of chestnut, off-white sheets and pillows that matched the cream-coloured carpet, a few different posters of Quidditch teams zooming in and out of the picture (because Ron had insisted), and a lone dark chair that sat in the corner.

This is what caught Hermione's eye, because in the chair was what looked to be a dark cloak, but it was unlike anything Hermione had ever seen and it looked almost like it was breathing.

She took a few steps closer to look at the bulging piece of fabric to see a note next to it that read:

 _Ron, I bought these thinking you might like them. Try them on and see. Much love,_

 _Hermione_

Hermione stared at the note with incredulity and confusion for a moment before she looked back up at the cloak.

 _I didn't write this…_ she considered, though it certainly looked very close to her handwriting and her signature was nearly identical.

Hermione did not tear her eyes away from the note until she heard a low growl that was so silent, Hermione almost mistook it for the wind outside, but she was sure that it had been something in the room.

She looked down at the thick black cloak to see a single shoe fall from inside and immediately bent down to pick it up.

One of Ron's work loafers was staring up at her as though confirming what she had been fearing.

 **A/N** **: Alright, I hope you liked this chapter! I really would love to hear what you think. It makes it hard to know if it's good without reviews. Thanks guys! I'll try to have the next one out next week!**

 **Happy writings!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N** **: I suck for taking so long to upload this. It's just been hard to feel inspired without any indication that people are reading. I hope I haven't disappointed anyone too badly!**

 **Enjoy!**

Hermione kept her eyes shut as tightly as she could manage, and struggled to keep the tears that had been building up for a while at bay. She let go of Draco and fell to her knees, a sharp pain shooting through them as she hit the hard floor, her mitted hands coming to her face.

It took her a little while to realise the feeling of her surroundings, but found quite quickly that the furs she was wearing were stifling hot in this type of environment. She heard Draco breathing heavily and shifting beside her and she decided to open her eyes.

Opening her eyes was not much better than keeping them closed, but she could tell that they were in a thick expanse of woods, and it seemed to continue for miles. The ground below her, she could tell from her fall was some sort of stone and it was moist from the condensation. They seemed to be on some kind of cliff in a jungle.

" _Lumos."_ Draco whispered as a small bit of light shone out through the towering trees above them. He had already taken off most of his layers, but decided he needed only to strip down to his knickers. Hermione followed suit, keeping her undershirt on, however.

Turning around, Hermione could see that the slab of rock on which they were standing continued on for only about a hundred meters before it met a huge wall of the same rock, perpendicular to the slab, its end—if there was an end—hidden by the impenetrable stretch of tropical trees. Hermione could not really see enough of it to be sure, but it looked as if there were many holes adorning the wall.

Hermione pulled on Draco's leg, and when he looked down at her, questioningly, she pointed him in the direction of what could possibly be their new home.

Draco aided Hermione to her feet, but she felt as though she could topple over again, her energy spent. She took a few moments to catch her balance and they stalked wearily to the cliff's wall.

One hundred meters in this stifling heat seemed much longer, but once they reached the towering barrier, Hermione found that her prediction had been correct. The tiny holes were much larger in front of them and all seemed to go deeply into the wall.

"Home." Draco declared.

 _Home_. Hermione reflected, permitting the permanence of this, even if it was not as permanent as their old home, even if the atmosphere was vastly different than their old home, even if Hermione would never be able to escape the shroud of trees, she would have to make it work.

 _Because it was my fault._ She thought.

"I don't blame you." Draco assured, seeming to read her mind.

He had gotten quite good at it too in the past seven years of silence…well, not _complete_ silence.

"Come on. Let's set up camp." And with that, he began spouting the incantations and protective charms.

Hermione joined in, making sure that nothing resided in the caves along the wall. Then they charmed the biggest one to be more comfortable for the two of them. Rocks became cushioned chairs and the raised platform near the back of the cave became a bed.

Hours passed, and the cool, damp cave was starting to resemble a home.

There were protective spells against curses all around, and protective spells against unwanted creatures entering and exiting, but this time, Hermione decided a Fidelius charm was necessary. She would be secret keeper and only she would be able to share the secret of their hiding place.

When Draco had finished protecting the back wall of the slightly smaller cave that was to be their kitchen, and Hermione had finished the bedroom, he gave her a searching look but said nothing.

Hermione was glad.

They fell asleep to the various sounds of their new home: crickets, birds, and some sort of cat, preying in the distance.

 **A/N** **: I hoped you liked this chapter! My goal is to get the next one out next week. Please review! Reviews help me 1. see where the story might go, 2. Fix any inconsistency errors I might have, 3. Feel inspired to write more, and 4. gain momentum on the story. Tell me what you thought!**

 **Happy Writings!**

 **Caroline**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** **Good afternoon everyone! As promised, here is chapter 6! I wanted to say thank you for everyone for reviewing. It's given me a new wind with new excitement full of ideas!**

 **With that, I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

" _Stupefy_!" Hermione cried at the rustling cloak. It did not budge.

Fear began to course through her and its creeping, numbing feeling urged her to run, but worry for her husband was deemed the strongest emotion, and so she stayed put, horrified.

 _Could Ron really be inside that cloak? And who would do such a thing and frame me?_

Hermione stepped forward reached a hand out toward the stirring robe, wand in the other hand held at ready, and grazed the fabric with her hand. Almost immediately the cloak began to move toward her hand, and even as she pulled away, it created a mold where her hand was before it settled back into the chair.

She tried three more hexes, none of which worked, as the slowly setting sun outside the window cast an eerie glow on the surroundings. The shadow from a tree outside seemed to be mangled hands, stretching their arms out from the cloak and reaching out to grasp her just as she was sure it had grasped her husband.

The rock in her stomach grew heavier, and her mouth was a dry cotton. Holding back her sick, she made the decision to leave. Whatever had come for Ron was surely coming for her next.

" _Accio."_ Hermione rasped defeatedly. A glass tablet, her own maroon cloak, and a small beaded pouch soared peacefully toward her. She gently placed the tablet inside the bag, and even though it seemed way too small to hold anything more than a few tubes of lipstick, the bag welcomed in the piece of glass.

Thinking of a nice country road in New Zealand, Hermione turned on the spot and closed her eyes, but instead of feeling the familiar compression and tug, she felt nothing.

When she opened her eyes, her fears had been realized. The cloak was still rustling on the chair before her, and she was stuck. Someone had put an apparation-lock on the house because someone did not want her leaving—someone powerful enough to put an unknown creature and an apparation-lock in her home with a limited time-frame.

Heart racing, Hermione dashed out of the bedroom, and headed straight for the front door, nearly tripping over the hallway carpet. Her hands shook as she wrenched the door open to the violently red and orange sky of a setting sun, and there before her were seven silhouetted figures in dark cloaks. Three of which gave the feeling of immense despair.

Eyes widening in terror, Hermione produced her wand from her cloak.

" _EXPECTO PATRONUM_!" she croaked. A silvery otter flew out of the tip of her wand, and as soon as it became manifest, she turned around and ran back through the house, out the back door, and into the forest.

Hermione sprinted as quickly as her feet would take her, but it was not long before her chest tightened, and her muscles burned. She paused to catch her breath and decided once more to think of a winding road in the countryside hills of New Zealand, closed her eyes and turned on the spot, only to open her eyes back up to one of the cloaked figures standing fifteen meters before her.

Hermione shot a stunning spell toward the man and broke off into another sprint, nearly getting hit by a spell herself in the process. She zigged through trees, fear pounding at her rattled heart.

Hermione was no stranger to running and despair, but she had hoped that all of the running had ended when the war ended.

Another spell zoomed past her shoulder and smashed into a tree, Hermione jumped over branch and bramble, and another spell shot at her feet. She jumped and shot one back.

 _Surely there must be houses up ahead,_ Hermione thought as a blast of light shot out at her from her left and smashed into her side. The impact of the blast shot her to the right and caused her knees to buckle and her wand to fly out of her hand. Her knees slammed to the wet forest floor and fell face forward as if an immense weight had pulled her down. She felt as if every bone in her body were compression toward the center of the earth and her head rang with immense pain. The pressure made her scream out.

" _HEEELP ME! HELP ME_!" she called out to the darkening sky, her voice cracking with the projection. Her limbs were locked to her side as the weight continued to pull her down, constricting without release.

" _Silencio."_ A familiar voice cooed from the distance behind a darkened hood.

Hermione's throat closed up and she was left with the invisible crushing weight which must have been a silent depression spell.

 _My organs will compress in on themselves if it does not end soon._ She thought, sweating profusely under the spell's gravity.

And then she felt immense agony. It was an agony that she had only felt at one other time, but it made her long for the compression again. Her body writhed in pain as the Unforgivable Curse was performed again and again by the man whom she knew had not believed her.

 _Should….have…been…more careful._ Her eyes were watering with the pain and she felt darkness enter her vision along with the vast feeling of despair.

 _Mum and Dad hiking along a winding path, eyes crinkled into full-faced smiles, wrinkles telling of their happiness even when they do not smile, and they wonder why they never had children, yet they do not seem to mind._

 _Fred dead in Hogwarts castle, an entire family of flames encircling their lost love._

 _A blinding light shooting fear into every crevice and crack, they can see us, and then…._

Nothing.

 **A/N:** **I hope you enjoyed reading that as much as I thoroughly enjoyed writing it.**

 **As always, please review so I know how I'm doing as a writer, and subscribe to the story if you want to read the rest!**

 **Happy writings, y'all!**

 **Dear. Dark. Destiny**


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